The Message in the Flowers
by xXFanGirl23Xx
Summary: John couldn't help but stand there staring at the black marble gravestone, feeling the words he had left unspoken lay heavy on his heart. Sherlock was gone. No one could survive that fall.
1. Chapter 1

**The Message in the Flowers**

John couldn't help but stand there staring at the black marble gravestone, feeling the words he had left unspoken lay heavy on his heart. Sherlock was gone. No one could survive that fall. He had checked Sherlock's pulse himself.

"You can't be dead… I know it. You aren't dead… You just aren't. Come on Sherlock, just once, please… Don't… be… dead." John said, gently placing a hand on the top of the gravestone. Sherlock may not be here in physical form, but he could feel him here. Without thinking, John had absentmindedly stopped to buy flowers to cover the grave, without realizing what they were.

He left a small grouping of primrose at the grave, unknowing of the secret meaning of them. Sherlock smiled slightly after John started walking away. The primrose lay untouched for a few hours before dark, when under the light of the moon, Sherlock sat with a small piece of paper.

_John, Thank you for the primrose, that was very thoughtful of you. When you get this, look up flower meanings online. You'll see what I mean by this then. – SH_

He left the note, along with a small heliotrope, before leaving for his normal hiding spot in the city.

John had come every day to the grave, and this day was no different. But this time, he stood, completely awestruck. A little white note was folded around a heliotrope. But, who put it there? And why?

He picked up the flower and the note, unfolding it, only to gasp at the first time that popped out at him; the initials: SH; Sherlock's signature. _What? How? No way!_

He dropped another flower, unknowing of any meanings, only to find out in less than a half hour. This time, the white gardenia lay in place of the note; a solemn message to Sherlock, once more.

Once back in 221b, John pulled up a page on flower meanings, just like Sherlock instructed him to and looked at, first, the primrose. John almost doubled over at the meaning.

_**I can't live without you**_

Next, he saw the heliotrope, gasping once again

_**Devotion; eternal love**_

The last came up and he just shut the laptop, almost hoping for a new response from Sherlock after the last one he left. The gardenia's meaning had meant a lot more than John imagined.

_**I love you in secret**_

**To Be Continued**


	2. Chapter 2

_The last came up and he just shut the laptop, almost hoping for a new response from Sherlock after the last one he left. The gardenia's meaning had meant a lot more than John imagined._

_**I love you in secret**_

Sherlock's mind raced as he found the gardenia, already knowing the meaning of every flower cataloged. He couldn't help but smile, knowing John had left it. Molly didn't care. Lestrade knew nothing about flowers, he was sure. Irene was in hiding. Besides, the note and the flower were gone now. No one would take them both. No one but John.

_Clever _he thought to himself. Taking the beautiful gardenia, he didn't feel the need to replace it. He knew subconsciously that he'd have to go back. Someday. And Sherlock had no doubt in his mind he would. And someday was going to be very soon.

He didn't leave a note or a flower in this one's place as he made his way along the darkened streets of London. John would visit the grave again tomorrow, and that gave him plenty of time to give John a special surprise. One the wonderful doctor would never see coming.

John made his way around, trying to keep his mind on his work and not on the meaning of the flowers he and Sherlock had exchanged. But, as usual, that didn't happen too much. At the end of the work shift, John headed straight to the graveyard, slightly upset when he found nothing in place of the missing flower. His friend hadn't left him anything? He frowned and wondered away, going to run the much needed errands before heading home to Baker Street.

Meanwhile, Sherlock had snuck in without alarming Mrs. Hudson. 221b looked the same as it did the day he died. John hadn't ever cleaned up the clutter in hopes of his return. Even the eyeballs were still in the microwave. Sherlock chuckled lightly. John hadn't lost hope and that was all Sherlock needed to make his final act come alive.

The bags were heavy, but John managed to drag them up the stairs and into the kitchen. At first, he hadn't realized, but after a moment, a blur of color caught his eye and he stood there, staring at a beautiful bouquet in a glass vase, wrapped with a red bow sitting on Sherlock's old desk. John set the remainder of the bags on the floor and slowly walked over to the desk, examining each flower.

He grabbed the laptop and thankfully, the webpage was still showing the meaning of the flowers. The first he saw was jonquil.

_**Affection returned**_

The next was blue salvia.

_**I think of you**_

Next, side by side, where aster and arbutus

_**Symbol of Love; Thee only do I love**_

The rest were all roses; pink and white roses.

_**I love you still and always will**_

John sighed softly. Each flower's meaning fell perfectly into place with only one person. He wouldn't have known who until he heard a floorboard creek behind him that caught him off guard. He turned and he felt his eyes go wide. That dark coat… that blue scarf… those cheekbones, sharp and straight and perfectly beautiful… those blue-grey eyes that lit up his world… that dark curly hair… it only added up to one person. And that one person was holding out a new type of flower.

Sherlock smiled at John, holding out a single spider flower. "I've told you the deepest secrets of my heart, and now I ask you the one thing I always wanted to ask of you since we met." John turned to the computer screen, looking at the meaning of the spider flower.

_**Elope with me**_

John's face lit up like a candle in the middle of an endless night. He smiled for the first time since Sherlock had jumped from the building.

"Yes. Oh god, yes!" John exclaimed, throwing his arms around _his_ Sherlock. Sherlock smiled, pulling John closer, leaning down so their lips were close together, but barely touching. John closed the gap in a blink of an eye, only pulling away when he felt a cool, metal object being slid onto his finger.

Sherlock had bought him a ring, but not just any ring. He had given him a diamond ring, with a real gold band, and three diamonds of different sizes, the middle one as big as a strawberry. Tears came to John's eyes.

"You're worth much more than this, John Hamish Watson." Sherlock said, his deep voice soft and loving. "You're worth dying twice for."

John had no doubt in his mind at what Sherlock was implying. He died to keep him safe the first time. Now he was back to stay, until the next time someone threatened their lives once again. And John secretly prayed that that wouldn't be the case.

**20 Years Later**

"John. John. John! JOHN!"

"WHAT?!" John shouted, slightly annoyed.

"He's doing it _again_." Sherlock yelled from the kitchen. John chuckled as a five year Kurt ran out and hid behind his chair.

"Papa… why is Daddy mad?" Kurt asked John, the little blue-grey eyes staring up at him in curiosity.

"John, tell your son to quit mixing up my experiments!" Sherlock shouted over the sound of beakers clanging together.

John sighed and shook his head. It was just another ordinary day at 221b Baker Street.

**The End**


End file.
